Good old Riley. He plea-bargained me down from Corruption of a Minor to Grand Social Mischief. Plans to lock myself into a convent went by the wayside, too; this is Miami Beach. All I could find were Jewish Homes for the Aged and the prospect of listening to Aunt Yedda’s constipation problems drove me to a known entity: The Astor.

I wasn’t the only one who got into trouble this week. Earlier I was forwarded an IM from out favorite Gaysian, Donnie Chung. It read like an AP tickertape from Shanghai: “(He) so funny….he get drunk…he go to jail…” Good Lord! That was a handsome and loveable friend of ours. He drove up Collins Avenue drunk, ran through a fence and nearly into the 23rd Street canal. Seven tickets and a DUI landed him in the county jail downtown (hereafter referred to as The Love Shack). He told me that the gay guys had taken over a section of the holding pen and, although he didn’t mention lace curtains, you could get a good idea of it. While there, he met a good-looking guy and they became fast friends. The guy’s mom bailed him out and then he bailed our friend out. This is one of the most fantastic love stories ever! The entire town is abuzz about it, and it should neatly take eyes away from me.